For Purists, The Prize Is Good As Gold

Angela Ruggiero took one look at Tara Lipinski. Lipinski took one look at Ruggiero. They burst out laughing.

``She's a lot smaller than me,'' Ruggiero said, ``to say the least.''

Ruggiero, a 5-foot-9, 175-pound defenseman, hits hard and slaps a puck harder. She also found out when they posed for a photograph at the Olympic Opening Ceremonies that she dwarfs the figure skater by 12 inches and 89 pounds.

But it will take far more than Ruggiero and Butch Johnson to move the mountain of loot Lipinski will amass in coming years.

The stunning Olympic victory over Michelle Kwan will be worth millions to Lipinski, who has announced she is turning pro. How many millions? With endorsements, exhibitions and competitions, it is the weakest of understatements to say Lipinski, 15, will be worth her weight in gold.

``She's going to do well,'' said Johnson, with a sigh of resignation.

Exactly how much was the gold medal Johnson won in team archery in Atlanta worth?

``The USOC gives you $15,000,'' Johnson said. ``A few companies I shoot for gave me a little. Nothing major.''

And Ruggiero?

Nothing.

Because of NCAA rules, the senior at Choate-Rosemary Hall couldn't even appear on the box of Wheaties with her fellow gold medalists from the U.S. women's hockey team. Ruggiero has qualified for financial aid, but she will end up paying for part of her career. Harvard doesn't offer athletic scholarships.

``We won the gold as the most pure amateur team I could ever think of,'' said Ruggiero, 18.

When we talked, Ruggiero had just returned to the Wallingford prep school from a field trip to Long Island Sound with her marine biology class. Two months ago, she was thrilling the world in Nagano. Now she's analyzing plankton. Ruggiero is taking two English classes, two art classes and is captain of the track team.

``I'm enjoying life,'' said Ruggiero, who had been class president for three years.

Johnson could be found a few days earlier making arrows at the Manchester archery range he co- manages and his father-in-law, Arthur Hall, owns. Butch usually makes the strings or repairs bows, but his wife was off.

``I wish I was paid just to shoot arrows,'' Johnson said. ``I could shoot better. But if I did it for the money, I'd be broke. Many times I wish there was money in it like golf.''

Golf is the perfect analogy. Solitary. Introspective. Archery, too, is a war against oneself. But you know all about the Masters and Tiger Woods. Many of you might not know about a steamy August day in Stone Mountain, Ga.

On that afternoon in 1996, Butch Johnson was the greatest archer in the world. At a distance of 77 yards, Johnson hit the gold ring -- 4.8 inches in diameter -- six of nine times to stun the South Koreans for the gold medal.

Archery is the national sport in Korea. This was its Super Bowl. When Kim Bo-ram hit a six in the final round -- essentially an airball -- an entire nation gagged.

``He's probably still having nightmares,'' said Johnson, who has gone on to win national titles with zero fanfare.

If he had been Korean, Johnson would be a national hero. One Korean woman who won the 1988 Olympics gets $40,000 a year.

``With an average income of like $4,000 over there, she's rich,'' Johnson said. ``The gold medal really didn't change anything for me. We drank some free beer at the AT&T Global Village to celebrate. I got back home on a Saturday. I went to work Monday.

``But, hey, the gold medal is as good as it gets.''

There were ceremonies in Johnson's hometowns of Woodstock and Webster, Mass., but after visiting the White House in 1992, he passed in '96. ``You meet one president,'' said Johnson, ``you've met them all.''

Twenty-five years younger than Johnson -- and the youngest player on the Olympic team -- Ruggiero is more effervescent. She got to meet her hero, Eric Lindros. She played video games with Elvis Stojko. After she returned to Choate, she spoke 22 minutes at a jammed assembly. She could have spoken for hours.

``Everybody has been so supportive of me,'' said Ruggiero, who brought her gold medal to the Gold Key Dinner Sunday in Southington. ``At a boarding school, you grow so close to your friends. I love this school so much.''

Ruggiero's hometown of Harrison Township, Mich., held a parade. But because of school, she hasn't been on the whirlwind tour like some teammates.

``I did meet Joe DiMaggio Opening Day at Yankee Stadium. That was cool,'' Ruggiero said. ``All during our pre-Olympic tour, coach [Ben] Smith used to talk about him after we'd win 15-0 against college teams. He became the standard of always giving 100 percent.''

Ruggiero holds the New England prep record in the shot put. She holds Choate records in the shot, javelin and discus. She's the first to acknowledge her 4-kilogram shot doesn't weigh nearly as much as Olympic expectations.

``My dad used to send me the front of Wheaties boxes and say if I worked hard one day I'd be there. I dreamed about it. Gold medal. Wheaties box. What else can you wish for? Then, they told five of us we couldn't be on it. I walked past the 15 who were posing for it. It was hard.''

Said Johnson: ``The only way I'd be on the Wheaties box is if they put me on the inside wrapper.''

Two Connecticut Olympic champions will not get rich from their gold medals as one tiny figure skater will. But that arrow of Johnson's and that hard, true slap shot of Ruggiero's have found the heart of sport. There is no price tag on such purity.